I decided to spend May Day walking to the beach and having a picnic with the donks. As a novel idea, I put a loaded pack saddle on Rubi, as we were only travelling light. She managed very well and then Matilde did the return journey with the pack saddlebags empty, and the tummy straps very loose, as the assumption is that she’s pregnant until proven otherwise, and she is getting very sensitive about having her tummy touched at all.
The sight of the heroic little Rubi struggling uphill with the pack saddle was too much for some mountain bikers. “Te vas a matar la burra!” one of them shouted. “You’re going to kill the donkey!” (Yes, Barbara, this one is more of a drama queen than Dalie!)
The beach was really quiet because the weather has been awful over Easter and it was again a poor forecast for today, so obviously people had not planned for the beach. In fact it was a lovely afternoon. I even went in the sea for the first time since I arrived here last September. Cold but refreshing! The donks enjoyed the beach, but did not go near the sea. Donks hate water. Even crossing a puddle on the way to the beach was a major problem for them!
In the short space of time that I was in the water and out again, the donks had managed to entwine themselves into a wonderful knotted arrangement that took nearly fifteen minutes to unravel. They are a couple of clowns at times. I have no photo of that, as it was all a bit of a panic with hooves flying and much swearing.
We stopped in Vilajoiosa for a drink in a bar and a policeman from the policia local decided the whole thing was too suspicious, so he decided to ruin the relaxing afternoon by demanding to examine all the paperwork. My passport, the donkey passports, my Spanish documentation.. but everything was in order. He looked disappointed.
If you’re doing anything unusual these days, instead of shopping or going to a theme park, the police seem to target you as a subversive. So he thought he would land the killer blow. “Do you have anything to pick up the mess if they shit in the road?”
I quickly pulled out a dustpan and brush and said, “Would you like to take some home to put on your cactus plant?” He went quickly away and at last I could return to my beer. The English proprietor of the bar, El Guitarra (sic), was highly amused.
We made our way home along the main road, which has a nice wide donkey friendly verge and a fine view of Puig Campana.